magically mundane

Happy Friday!

Did you see the latest episode of This Is Us? If not, maybe come back to this when you have.

I watched last night’s second to last episode in tears, the whole way through. If you haven’t seen the series, Rebecca Pearson is the matriarch of an imperfect (but is there such thing as a perfect) family and her life is coming to an end. Last night was a tribute to her, with everyone she had loved and had been loved by, saying goodbye.

What unleashed a full fury of water from my eyes was when Randall perched over his mom during those last moments, telling her how she had been ‘magic’. Magic. The unsung hero. The mother. I often don’t feel like I’m magical. I feel like I disappoint them. That I lose my patience with them. That I miss opportunities to spend time playing next to them. I feel anything but magical to my children most of the time.

But then I remember my own mother. Her magic in the mundane. Drying my hair as she put on her makeup. Sitting in bed late a night, putting off sleep. Driving to school. Watering the plants. I never appreciated the magic then.

Magic: the power of apparently influencing events by using mysterious or supernatural forces.

Mysteriously, those humdrum moments in my childhood influenced events. The security, safety and love she seemingly effortlessly provided every day went on the determine the rest of my life.

Magic.

When the boys tell me why they love me on Mother’s Day, one of the first things they say is, ‘thank you for feeding me’. Followed quickly with, ‘thank you for putting me to sleep.’ To them, I am their comfort, their resting place, their haven. I used to resent it. Thought it belittled me as a woman, to think I was only as good as my grilled cheese and good-night kisses. I know I’m more than that, it’s who I am to them. And they think, or at least one day I hope they will, I’m magical. I no longer resent their sweet gratitudes.

I don’t think you have to be a parent to biological children to be a mother. Nurturing of another human being can come in so many forms, look incredibly diverse. You may have chosen not to have children. 37 percent of childless adults don’t want kids and aren’t planning to have them in the future. Or you may be unable to conceive. Or you may not have found a partner you want to raise children with. Whatever the reason, there are always people to nurture. Always people who need someone to listen. To defend. To teach. To understand. To advise.

To magic.

Who has been magic to you? Who mothered you? Who do you mother? Please do let me know!